Kildare Hotel and Country Club.

AuthorRothenberg, Robert S.

WE WERE AWAKENED by the sound of someone stomping heavily across the floor of the room above us. Our initial annoyance was tempered when we checked the clock and found that the time was a few minutes past 7:30 a.m., when we had planned to get up to begin our first full day in Ireland. However, we had failed to pushed the alarm button and probably would have slept right through breakfast had it not been for our noisy upstairs neighbor.

That morning, we casually mentioned what had happened to our host, Kenneth Healy, the current owner of Barberstown Castled. He glanced at us oddly and informed us that the room was unoccuppied. The only possible explanation he could offer was that "The Llady in Gray," a benign spirit reputed to haunt the room in question, was wandering about. In a land long rumored to be populated by leprechaums, banshees, and various other representatives of the supernatural, it seemed quite reasonable to have the resident ghost provide a wake-up service.

Barberstown Castle, located in Straffan, Country Kildare, about a 40-minute drive southeast from Dublin, dates back to the close of the 13th century. Built by Nicholas Barby--the castle's name is a corruption of Barbyestown--the original structure formed a fortified rectangle with a pair of three-story-high towers. In the late 16th century, a large stone building was added to the castle, with the final wing appended during the 1830s. The resulting complex makes for fun-filled wandering, with unexpected nooks and various levels well worth exploring.

Ireland is virtually overrun with castles. Many of those that have not fallen into disrepair or, in many cases, total ruin, have fumed to taking in guests in order to meet the staggering costs of maintenance and taxes. Our decision to use a quartet of castles as our bases for exploring the countryside stemmed from a desire to immerse ourselves in the nation's rich history and an irresistible opportunity to be treated like royalty, if only in our imaginations. Actually, considering the 20thcentury creature comforts now offered in varying degrees, today's guests undoubtedly find these castles far more hospitable than their titled owners did centuries ago.

Comfort and charm are the bywords at Barberstown. Overstuffed chairs and sofas in a cheery hodgepodge of styles from various eras fill the public rooms, ideal for reading, letter wnting, or sipping tea or whiskey after a brisk walk up hills and down lanes. Fireplaces--some gas, others wood-burning--add to the coziness and do a marvelously effective job of fighting off the chill on damp days.

Gracious country living is exemplified by the bedroom suites. Floor-to-ceiling bowed windows are set off by red, green, and white floral draperies, with the fabric pattern repeated on the headboard of the ultra-comfortable four-poster bed, as well as the bedspread. Gilded mirrors and sconces; a crystal chandelier; mahogany wardrobe, dresser, and tables; and a small sofa and easy chair co-exist cheerily. One exception from tradition is the thoroughly up-to-date bathroom, with a glass-enclosed shower most welcome by American travelers.

The two vaulted banquet halls at the lowest level of the castle provide a medieval atmosphere, with diners split almost evenly in debating whether the rooms once had served as wine cellars or dungeons. Whatever their former incarnation, the massive wooden tables and high-backed, almost baronial chairs are right in keeping with the setting, an ambience carried through in the goblets, china, and silverware.

A piquant appetizer of pan-fried duck livers coated in oatmeal and served with a Cointreau and shallot sauce was followed by a delicate broccoli soup. One of us is an unregenerate meat-eater; the other leans toward the splendors of the sea. Our divergent tastes were satisfied thoroughly by a roast rack of lamb, perfectly pink and encased in a Dijon mustard and herb crust, and sea trout poached in white wine with a mango and ginger sauce. As we were to find throughout Ireland, an abundance of crisp, farm-fresh vegetables accompanied the main courses. The crowning touch was a rum and raisin tartlet with a fruit sauce that simultaneously startled and soothed the palate. The cliche that the Irish subsist on corned beef and cabbage. Iamb stew, and potatoes was proved false that night and on those to follow. The culinary influence is distinctly continental, we were to find.

Ken Healy filled us in on Barberstown's long history, explaining how it had passed from hand to hand over the centuries. Our favorite tale was how the previous owner--rock star Eric Clapton--had come to purchase the castle. He and fellow musician Paul Simon had been staying at a nearby inn when they dropped by for dinner. Clapton fell in love with the place, made the owner an offer she couldn't refuse, and wrote a check on the spot. Supposedly, the owner took the check, handed over the keys, and walked out the front door without looking back. Undoubtedly, the episode is apocryphal, but, as with many of the stories we were regaled with throughout our trip, "it makes for a lovely tale." Another that probably has become embroidered over the years is that of Clapton's hulking bodyguard, who encountered the spectral Lady in Gray and ran screaming into the night. Healy solemnly mentioned that his sister-in-law also had encountered the spirit roaming the corridor, but accepted the confrontation with far more equanimity.

Our scheduled stay disappointedly was truncated to just one day when modem technology proved less agreeable than the past. Somehow, a computer glitch had cancelled our reservation, and only a single night was available. Ken Healy, as distressed by the error as we were, worked the phone diligently and was able to arrange for us to move a half-mile down the road to the Kildare Hotel & Country Club for the balance of our stay. At first, we were dually put out by having to live UD the charms of Barberstown and being forced to diverge from our castle theme. However, the K Club, as it universally is called, did its best to soothe our feelings.

The current owners, the Smurfit Group, have metamorphosed an 1 8th-century manor house into a magnificent 45-room hotel with amenities its original owners never could have dreamed of: an indoor swimming pool; spa; exercise room; massage, shower, and aroma therapy facilities; indoor and outdoor tennis courts; and a solarium.

The K Club's raison d'etre, though, is the par-72 championship golf course designed by Arnold Palmer. When we arrived, we found it in a buzz of preparation for the upcoming Smurfit European Open, the first time the toumament was to be played in Ireland. Despite the tumult, club members and guests were taking advantage of the gorgeous weather to get in 18 holes, ignoring as well as possible the horde of workmen erecting bleachers and television towers.

We were surprised when the bellman collected our luggage and, instead of leading us into the main hotel building, stacked our bags in an electric golf cart-like vehicle, waved us back into our car, and indicated for us to follow him. Our destination was a few hundred yards down the road, the spectacular Courtyard Suites. Built around a central rectangular court filled with rosebushes and resembling townhouses, these two-bedroom duplexes were more like private homes than hotel accommodations. In keeping with the K Club's emphasis on golf, each suite bore the name of one of the world's most famous courses, proudly attested to by the plaque on the front door.

Downstairs, a living room offered an assortment of comfortable, well-upholstered chairs and a sofa, a gas fireplace, a television set and VCR (cassettes are available at the hotel's reception desk), and a desk and fax machine. The K Club is extremely popular as a conference center, and the Courtyard Suites are prized by corporate executives. (Of course, the colfinc availability is a mere coincidence, should the taxman be listening!) A box of luscious Belgian chocolates and a bowl overflowing with fresh fruit, refilled each day during our stay, welcomed us, as did a well-stocked bar and icebox crammed with mixes, soft drinks, beer, and champagne.

A formal dining room with seating for eight abutted a fully outfitted kitchen, which included a dishwasher, garbage disposal, microwave, electric juicer, and toaster. The refrigerator held oranges, milk, a loaf of bread, eggs, and butter, while cabinets offered a broad assortment of coffee, tea, hot chocolate, and jams and marmalade, allowing guests to prepare breakfast for themselves in lieu of eating at the hotel's dining room.

Upstairs was equally attractive, with two bedrooms radiant with bright floral bedspreads in beige, pink, and green. A built-in wardrobe in the master bedroom easily swallowed up the contents of our luggage, unchallenged by our chronic overpacking. A pair of bathrooms oflered us the choice of tub or shower, baskets full of the usual amenities, and shelves piled high with fluffy towels and thick terry robes.

With a full range of activities available--bicycling, horseback riding, salmon and trout fishing, and even clay pigeon or pheasant shooting, in addition to the golf and tennis--our days could have been spent eventfully at the K Club. However, with so much to see around Kildare and in Dublin, we contented ourselves with a get-acquainted stroll along the banks of the River Liffey, which flows through the grounds, then walked around the beautiful formal gardens before an intended visit to the city.

As we were completing our tour, the tranquility was disturbed by a helicopter setting down on a pad on the back lawn. With such a dramatic entrance, all eyes were on Michael Smurfit, chairman of the Smurfit Group and one of Ireland's leading industrialists, as he and his party alit. That afternoon, his champion thoroughbred, Vintage Crop, was to run at The Curragh Racecourse, and, on the spur of the moment, we decided to change our...

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